


Love in Six Parts

by nectarimperial



Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4775189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nectarimperial/pseuds/nectarimperial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a science on how people love one another—or at least, that’s what Jude read in a textbook.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love in Six Parts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [healing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/healing/gifts).



> for healing, you're the best ilu !! <3

Part I. _Ludus_

There’s a science on how people love one another—or at least, that’s what Jude read in a textbook. He’d tapped the glossed pages with the tip of his pen and scanned the page, jotting definitions down in his notebook. They’re colors, styles, patterns, shifting and changing with each interpersonal relationship, different and yet the same.

Just different ways to love.  
  
He’d remembered it long enough for the exam and then promptly pushed the information from his brain. That kind of information isn’t necessary for a doctor, he told himself, and replaced it with charts and graphs and diagrams of the human heart, scientifically mapped.  
  
So it surprises him when the word surfaces to the top of his waking conscious. _Ludus._ Wanting to have fun with someone. Tease, indulge in their presence. He thinks about it hard, scratching the side of his head with his finger.  
  
An elbow to his ribcage breaks his concentration, “C’mon, this is no time to study, honors student,” Alvin laughs and pushes his brown bangs from his eyes, simmering with the setting sun.  
  
“I wasn’t—“ Jude stammers, and Alvin laughs again. It’s warm, and despite it’s boisterousness, it’s strangely gentle. It makes Jude smile and his cheeks flush and he bites the corner of his lip.  
  
“Bet you were,” Alvin says, “What were you thinking about, then?”  
  
And Jude can’t remember. The thought disappeared the instant Alvin had started teasing him and as hard as he thinks it doesn’t come back, “I was, um—I,” he starts. He’d never been great at lying. “I was thinking about how long it’d—or how many napples Hamil—“  
  
“Uh-huh.” Alvin pokes him in the ribs again, “You suck at lying, kid,” and smiles, grin stretching across his cheeks, eyes crinkling at the corners, and it’s in that moment Jude remembers.  
  
_Ludus._

 

  
  
Part II. _Pragma_  
  
It’s love foraged from practicality. Almost like a business transaction. At least, that’s what Jude scrawled once on notebook paper as he ran to class, and it’s what he thinks about standing in front of Alvin, hand outstretched.  
  
“Come with us,” Jude says, and stands over the other man. His golden eyes say the same thing. _Come with us, come with us—come with me. Please._ But he tries to maintain an even tone. Even if his heart is thumping so hard it might burst from his chest.  
  
Alvin looks at him from underneath his lashes, emotions swirling like a cloud of miasma, thick and indecipherable, hanging between them. He swallows and Jude waits for him to make his decision, each indecisive moment rising and falling with his erratic breaths.

Jude doesn’t really know why he’s giving Alvin a second chance, but maybe it’s because they share the same goals. Milla’s goals. Maybe it’s because they need to stick together and pick up where she left off. Maybe it’s only _pragma._  
  
But even pragma is love.

 

  
  
Part III. _Eros_  
  
They’d been together for years—sometimes it felt like ages. Memories of the Temporal Crossroads and Canaan long-ago testaments to the trials they’d faced, hand in hand, hearts beating as one.  
  
And still, _still_ Alvin made him feel this way. He hadn’t done anything in particular, just looked at him from the other side of the dining table and shot him a lopsided grin over the top of his paper, and without warning, Jude’s lips are on Alvin’s, kissing, tearing, and tugging.  
  
He tastes like his morning coffee, and Jude straddles his hips, ripping off the scarf around his neck, and bites the skin at his throat. If it hurts, Alvin doesn’t complain and rolls his hips upward, grinding into him, wrapping his arms around Jude’s waist.  
  
Leaning over, Alvin licks his lips and whispers in Jude’s ear as Jude’s unbuttoning his obnoxiously bright dress shirt, “You called this something once, didn’t you?”  
  
It makes Jude moan, the close proximity of his breath and cologne intoxicating and so, _so_ uniquely Alvin, and Jude runs his tongue down the muscles of his neck and along his collarbone. Pausing for a second, Jude breathes, “What? Morning sex?”  
  
Alvin shakes his head and Jude can feel his brown hair tickle his nose as he drags his nails down Alvin’s chest, starting to unbutton his pants, “No,” Alvin starts, chest rumbling against Jude, “Eros.”

 

  
  
Part IV. _Mania_  

Jude had scoffed when he’d written, _‘first love style experienced by teenagers’_ in his notebook next to _mania_ , but sure enough, it had been on the test. Question three in the matching definitions portion of his exam.

The textbook had been wrong.  
  
“Jude, I’m so sorry,” he whispers in the living room of Balan’s apartment, shirt discarded somewhere to his left, pajama pants low on the sharp angle of his hips. He holds Jude’s face in his hands and kisses his nose and his cheeks and his lips, soft and gentle, each one an apology.

“I know, but—” Jude starts, hand hanging off Alvin’s forearm.  
  
“—It won’t fix anything,” Alvin says and runs his calloused trigger thumb across Jude’s cheek. It always smells like gunpowder and the smell fills Jude’s nostrils, but it doesn’t make him angry. He looks at Alvin, sincerity and fear clear even in the darkness of the apartment, moonlight and city lights coming from the window.  
  
Jude nods and leans forward, resting his forehead on Alvin’s chest and lets Alvin run his fingers up and down his back, burying his face in Jude’s hair, kissing the top of his head.  
  
“I need you, I need you,” Alvin murmurs and he doesn’t stop until Jude’s asleep, arms tight around Alvin’s torso.

 

  
  
Part V. _Agape_

“How do you make yourself do all this?” Alvin asks one day when he comes home late, Jude putting the final touches on dinner. He plops into a chair and throws his scarf on the back of the couch and clarifies, “You know, put up with me.”  
  
“I don’t know—“ Jude says and balances a couple plates and bowls on his arms before setting them on the table, “I don’t make myself do anything, Alvin.”  
  
Alvin frowns and taps his fork against the side of the dish. It’s an annoying habit. He does it when he’s thinking, but Jude’s accepted it, like he’s accepted everything else about Alvin. His habits were nothing compared to the burdens of his past, still lingering like specters of self-doubt that troubled his waking thoughts and actions.  
  
He’d read about this once too. A long time ago. The desire to give back more than receive in relationship, to remain faithful and patient. Understanding and kind. _Agape_ is what they called it. Jude had written it down in his notes with the words ‘selfless’ and ‘unconditional’ marked with a star.  
  
“Sometimes I worry,” Alvin replies at last, tossing the utensil down on his napkin, “But if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Jude says with a laugh and a smile, lightly tapping Alvin’s shin under the table, “Eat your dinner.”  
  
And all Alvin does is snort, “Better be sure.”

 

  
  
Part VI. _Storge_

“Why are we back in Fennmont?” Jude asks, stuffing his hands into his pockets. The night clime had gradually disappeared over the years, making the sky glow like twilight, stars still glittering in the sky.  
  
“It’s where we first met, yeah?” Alvin replies and shoots a grin over to Jude. They’re standing in the central plaza, waves lapping at the docks, and there’s a gentle breeze. It feels like the same night—the same night that Jude had become Rashugal’s-most-wanted and Alvin had leaned too close and carried him to safety. It actually made him laugh.  
  
“Yeah,” Jude says and tilts his head to the side, “I thought you were pretty shady back then—I still do, but,” he pauses and smiles, leaning his head into Alvin’s arm, “thanks. I don’t know if I ever told you.”

There’s a lapse in the conversation, but it feels natural. Normal. Because everything about being with Alvin made Jude feel like he’d found a place to belong—like he’d found a home. After a few moments Alvin asks, “Do you ever think about the future?”  
  
It catches Jude off guard and he looks up at Alvin’s face, studying his expression, and then looks at the cobblestone in the port, “I mean, sure—all the time. When will my research be completed? Do I have enough funding? Is—“  
  
Alvin shakes his head and asks, hesitation in his tone, “No—about us?”  
  
Jude doesn’t miss a single beat, “No,” and just as Alvin’s about to protest Jude finishes, “because I know you’ll always be there.”  
  
And Alvin relaxes, leaning over to kiss Jude on the cheek. _Storge,_ Jude thinks to himself. Love founded in loyalty. The final stage of commitment, and he laughs to himself.  
  
He never knew that he could fall in love with one person six different ways. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you as always!!


End file.
